When in doubt, opt for a few Irish drinking stories because they will cheer you up in no time.
O’Reilly had been out all night drinking at his favorite pub. As that time of night approached the bartender signaled last call saying the bar would soon be closing. So O’Reilly downed his last sip of Guinness and stood up to leave, but he quickly fell flat on his face.
He tried standing one more time, but, again, he met with the same result. He decided that he would crawl outside to get some fresh air thinking that might sober him up.
Once outside he stood up again, but once again he fell to the ground. So he decided he would crawl the 2 blocks to his home. Upon arriving at his front door he tried standing up once more, but he again dropped flat on his face. So, he crawled inside dragging his way into the bedroom.
After reaching his bed he tried one more time to stand up. This time he did manage to pull himself upright, but he quickly fell straight into bed and was asleep just as his head hit the pillow.
The next morning he awakened to his missus standing over him, shouting, “So, you’ve been out drinking again, have you?”
“And what makes you say that?” O’Reilly asked, feigning an innocent look.
“Because the pub called,” his missus replied. “You forgot your wheelchair there again.”
May your blessings outnumber the shamrocks that grow
And may trouble avoid you wherever you go.
During the French Revolution in Paris, back in 1789, three accused spies from across the English Channel are waiting to be guillotined.
“Do you want to be beheaded on your back or on your front?” The executioner asked Smith, an Englishman. “On my back,” said Smith. “I’m not afraid of death. I‘ll look him in the eye.”
So the executioner tied Smith down on his back underneath the heavy blade. The executioner then reached up for the lever, and gave it a mighty tug. The blade quickly began to slide down the guillotine toward Smith’s waiting neck but just as quickly jammed in the middle of its track.
The captain of the guard approached Smith telling him it was his lucky day. He was reprieved because, under French law, no man can be sentenced to death twice.
White, another Englishman, was called next by the executioner. White also chose to face the blade, lying on his back. Once again the executioner’s sinewy arm reached for the lever, and once again the blade jammed in the middle of its slide.
The captain of the guard told White that he, too, had managed to cheat death for he also was reprieved.
Murphy, an Irishman, was third.
“Back or front?” shouted the executioner.
“If it’s good enough for Smith and it’s good enough for White, then it’s good enough for me,” said Murphy.
And Murphy, too, was laid down on his back beneath the silver blade. “Begorra!” he shouted looking up at the blade. “Just a minute there. I think I see why it jams.”